Across the notes
by adarabelle
Summary: Two floors apart yet united by a thread in time. EC set in modern time.
1. Prologue

_Dedication: To all Phantom of the Opera 'phans' around the world and those who have supported the musical theater and the very essence of life, music. I thank each and every one of you for keeping music in society for It brings joy to each individual in their own way. This is also most dearly written for my late friend, Melanie who loved music as much as anyone ever could. _

A/N: Dear readers, the following is of my own imagination and the characters are not mine. I wish they were and yet here we are. This is my first attempt of writing a Phantom of the Opera fan fic so please bear with me. It is based in this day and age but the romance (E/C of course) is timeless. Reviews are of course accepted (and wanted, naturally) with constructive criticism. But if you should decide to flame me, I will not be responsible for my actions.

Thank you and have a nice day. And now, I would like to present my first Phantom of the Opera fan fiction:

**Across the notes**

Prologue: The Violin

If you had taken the right turn instead of the left on the road you were on not long ago, you would have stumbled upon an old building with a faded sign that reads only one word; 'Conservatoire'.

It has been wrongly named of course, for instead of being 'a place of higher education for those who seek a career in the arts', it was simply a building made out of many sections where people were taught how to dance, play musical instruments and to control the human instrument, the voice. And yet, the name had been there for many years and no one bothered to question its incorrect use.

Then again, the place is not brightly lit with neon signboards thus those who do not look for it may never notice it. Yet, this is the very spot where most of my story is being told. It starts on a cold, summer's night when the moon shone brightly above and the stars seem to dance to a haunting melody from the roof. A melody from a violin to be more precise. A lone figure stood and played his song, blissfully blocking the world from his mind as he threw himself into the sorrow of the piece. Alone though he may be, he was proud in doing what he did knowing that his song was reaching the across the darkness into the dreams of those who slept that misty night.

The song floated gently into the ears of drunkards stumbling in the alleys, drowning their very souls into the gin that they live for; it floated across the streets where the dim lights showed the badly maintained roads of the city to the 'less fortunate of society', as I call them for the lack of civil words; it floated into the open restaurants where the people felt awe at its beauty; it floated across the sky to the ears of those in slumber touching their minds, accompanying their dreams.

But most of all, it floated into the ears of a young dancer two floors beneath the roof of the school. A young dancer who was alone that night practicing her few unstable moves for the performance next week. The windows were opened ever so slightly, making it easier for her to listen to the melody that made her stop quite literally in her tracks. She listened in silence. Slowly, yes ever so slowly, she found herself closing her eyes.

If you, dear reader, were able to hear this piece, you would have cried openly for it spoke of the sorrow of one's heart in losing a loved one. It touches the very spot in your mind that makes all memories flood out in an instant, memories that you don't remember you had. Memories stored somewhere deep in one's mind, untouched and almost forgotten. Into these depths did the piece strike, into the canvas of the mind where the artist had painted all too long ago. Memories of pain and joy; of laughter and tears;

Of a lost father and the grief of a mourning child; The child which was the graceful dancer who now stood motionless in the studio.

The music seemed to carry on forever and when she finally opened her eyes, it had stopped. The young girl woke up from her reverie. Her gaze fell upon the clock on the wall which ticked slowly as its hands were almost united at the '12'. With a low cry she picked up her belongings cursing herself under breath. As the lights turned off in that room, she ran down the stairs her cinnamon hair flying behind her as she skipped a step or two. If she had not been pressed for time she would have noticed a light glinting from the roof.

The glint of a mask.


	2. Once more

**Chapter One: Once More**

The sky held tears in her eyes and was soon to give into them after last night's performance. The roof was deserted as the sun tried to peek out through the blanket of clouds in his way.

On the first floor of the 'Conservatoire', stood two men signing a contract with the owner of the school, to relieve him of the half a century old building. Indeed Mr. Lefevre was glad to be rid of the property for two reasons: He was too old to cope and Australia was a good place for retirement. Of course, he had to hand this heritage to someone who was capable. Someone with not too much knowledge of its history but with a deep pocket. And this rare qualities presented themselves in the form of two businessmen who were before him that very day.

"You are both absolutely certain about taking this place?" asked Mr. Lefevre fully knowing that this question would only give him another round of the tale of their 'hard days' when they first started out in the 'scrap metal' business; an answer he dearly counted on. After a long sermon on their endeavors, the three men shook hands as a sign of their understanding just as a tall figure walked in the room.

"Ah, yes, Nadir. These two men, Mr. Richard Firmin and Giles Andre, are now your new managers. This is Nadir Khan, one of our best theatre director and has brought us many successful productions under his watch," said Mr. Lefevre addressing the latter to the two businessmen. The three men exchanged nods as the Persian handed them a letter. "This is from Mr. Destler who congratulates you both for your fine choice of a school. It is a list of the songs that his students will be performing during next week's production," and with that he left the room. "Mr. Destler is our vocal teacher here at 'Conservatoire'. He is a reasonable man, a bit eccentric but a brilliant teacher. And now if you'll excuse me, I shall be off to Perth then." Smiling at his success, the previous owner of the music school made his exit after shaking hands once more with the new ones.

Richard and Giles smiled as they sat comfortably in the office. "Another miles stone in our partnership, Richard. Now we have a school of the arts! Another great investment which of course shall bring us many great returns," said Mr. Andre as he ran his fingers up and down the table's side. His friend smirked ,"Of course, Giles. It was my idea after all. I can see it now on the cover of the Times 'Rich Businessmen support a good cause'. Brilliant, simply brilliant!" They sat in silence as the cool breeze rushed in through the open window. The sky had darkened and the sun it seemed, decided to rest a little longer.

Suddenly, a loud sputtering was heard breaking the calm atmosphere. This surprising sound came from Mr. Richard Firmin who was clutching a sheet of paper, his eyes bulging from their sockets. "God man, what is the matter?" asked the other leaning forward with concern. Richard steadied himself before saying, "Listen to this...

'I welcome you to my school and remind you most kindly to keep your noses out of the arts and in your office. The productions have always been handles well by our stage director, under my advice. Do not interfere with my work for the good of all who are connected to this establishment. The production of next week shall run smoothly and I shall do my part in ensuring its success. I have attached the itinerary for that evening along with this note.

Signed,  
E.D.

PS: My salary is due.'

The nerve of the man, Giles. Not to interfere! HIS school! We'll see about that!"

xxxx

"Christine you shouldn't push yourself too far."

The young ballerina from the night before sat quietly before her teacher and foster mother who looked at her with a steely gaze. "I just want to do my best. I don't want to let you down," she mumbled softly. Marie looked down at her ward as she sighed loudly. "You will be the death of me. You may look like your mother but you have your father's spirit and stubborn attitude." Christine smiled as she looked at her exasperated mentor. They were getting ready to go for mass at Saint Cecilia's church, a ten minute walk from their home.

"Marguerite! Get down here immediately or we'll leave you behind." called Mrs.Giry her voice traveling all the way up the stairs. "I'm coming!" came the muffled reply. Marguerite, more commonly known as Meg was usually the last to get ready for she would try on dozens of outfits before modeling them before her mother and best friend. Christine looked at the wall clock which told her that if they did not leave soon, they would be late. Mass was to start at 9am and it was already 8.35am.Marie in her turn kept peeking out the window as though to expect someone to arrive soon enough.

"I'm done! This one is great right?"

The two ladies turned to see Meg waltzing down the stairs in her first outfit (which she wore half an hour ago). Marie rolled her eyes and mumbled her approval before handing the girls their coats. "Just on time Meg. He's here." The two daughters exchanged glances as the put on their coats. "Who's here, Mama?" "A very nice young man who has been kind enough to give us a ride. So stop talking and get a move on." The two of them followed their mother who opened the door imperiously to find a man standing there. They couldn't see his face as the light did not touch it but he extended his hand to Marie Giry and escorted her to the car. "Who's he?" whispered Meg to Christine as they followed behind. The other merely shook her head in confusion before glancing up to the stormy sky.

The quickly got into the car which was 'squeaky clean' as Meg commented and tried to make themselves as comfortable as possible in an unfamiliar environment. Marie was seated beside the driver and was chatting amicably with him. Christine and Meg relaxed slowly as they drove to the church, soft classical music playing in the background. Sometimes they caught bits of the conversation and the man's low voice was smooth and velvety causing Christine to wonder who he was. She tried to convince herself to look up to catch a glimpse of him in the rear mirror but dare not for fear that he might catch her looking.

After a while the conversation fell into silence. Without her realising, Christine began to hum along with the melody that reminded her dearly of a forgotten song. A song that awoke in her a sense of longing, a sense of pain. She watched her surrounding fly past as they moved closer to Saint Cecilia's but her mind was not on them but on a far away dream that she kept to herself. "You have a nice voice." She stopped abruptly at that comment and her eyes found themselves looking into pools of green in the mirror. She mumbled a soft 'thank you' and averted her gaze immediately. Somehow there was a tension she could not explain. Her voice was her own property which she did not enjoy sharing. It was hers and _his_. No one else's, especially a stranger she had only met.

Finally they pulled up at the church and Christine got out along with the other two. Marie was thanking him cordially as Meg took Christine's arm and marched themselves into the Gothic building. Christine's eyes strayed to the graveyard located beside the church and felt a pang of sudden sadness. Biting her lip, she signed her self with holy water at the font at the side of the entrance.The church was almost full as they made their way to a pew, genuflecting before seating herself. She looked up and stared at the crucifix before her, joining her pain with His.

_'Oh papa.'_

**A/N:** Thank you for reading and please review. I know this is basically an introduction chapter to most of the characters but I had to do it sometime. My apologies for it being brief. For those of you who have read the original version of this before I replaced it might notice that this chapter is completely different from the first. Once more I'd like to remind you that this is my first 'In-progress' work and first Phantom of the Opera fan fiction. Please be patient with me and bear with my errors and faults. I accept constructive criticism and would dearly love to hear what you thought of it. Thank you again for reading.

_The Sceptic_


	3. Let the games begin

**Chapter Two: Let the games begin**

Startled by a loud ringing, Marie Giry jerked off her couch, cursing as she looked for the source of that vexing sound. Pushing through layers of material she found the cell phone below a pile of laundry. Composing herself before answering, she tried to imagine pink ponies as the wretched device continued its inhumane tintinnabulation.

"Good evening," she hissed, letting out her irritation in three syllables.

"I'm sorry for disturbing you, Madame, but the managers have ordered me to inform everyone about the meeting at eight tonight."

Marie could feel almost feel the anger course through every cell in her body. She closed her eyes and tried to visualize again, although the only images were of ponies with their heads ripped off. "And why, may I enquire are we having a meeting out of the blue, without further notice and with 'further' I mean, three days in advance and not an hour?" Her voice was calm, but not the sort that meant "happiness"; more like 'the calm before the storm'. The stage director was not perturbed by the clear hint of displeasure and smoothly replied, "Marie, I do believe you are quite free tonight as you told me this morning. I shall be glad to be your chauffer once more to the 'Conservatoire' so you have absolutely no reason to not be there. I shall pick you up in fifteen minutes."

With that the line went dead. Mrs. Giry glared at the metallic creation of modern technology before storming upstairs. This was going to be a long night.

xxxx

As the black car pulled up in front of the Giry residence, Marie patted her hair before turning to her two daughters. "I shall be out tonight, so please try to keep the house in one piece, girls." Kissing them both swiftly on the cheek, the ballet mistress made her exit as her cell phone rang once more. As Marguerite was too preoccupied in peeping through the door at her mother, Christine was left to answer it.

"Is this Marie?"

"I'm sorry she just left. May I take a message?"

"I see. Thank you, no. Good night."

Before she could reply she heard a soft click which told her that the caller had ended their conversation. "Who was it, Christine?" asked Meg turning to her. Christine shrugged before setting the phone down. The caller's voice was soft and almost like a melody floating in the air; masculine no doubt of that, but different. To be precise, ethereal. If it wasn't for Meg's loud whoop from the couch, she would have been lost in her thoughts of perfect words to describe the caller's intonation.

"What are you so happy about?" she asked plopping down beside Marguerite. Pointing to the screen excitedly Meg squealed with delight. With raised eyebrows her sister turned and found herself staring at a handsome face, blonde hair and blue eyes. Now she could see the cause of the bubbly girl beside her. "He is undeniably scrumptious isn't he?" Christine laughed as she leaned back, making herself comfortable. This was going to be a long night.

xxxx

There was something about Marie Giry that commanded respect and admiration from not only her students, but all her acquaintances. She wasn't young but she carried her age well; like Dame Judi Dench, as Meg would say. But to Nadir Khan, this teacher, who worked three floors above his office, was amusing. Yes, you read correctly, amusing. Her constant inner battles to appear compose rarely showed on the surface but he could tell (after long observation) that she was more complex that she showed.

You see, Madame Giry (as is her nick name by her students) has taught in the Conservatoire for many, many years. If anyone knew the school well, it was her. Beneath her severe smile and cat like eyes, she has stored many secrets about people and events that have taken place in the school. If one wanted to know anything about anyone, you had to go to her. But this lady would never give away confidential information to just anyone leaving most of the secrets of the misnamed building under wraps.

The drive to the school was a silent apart from the light one sided conversation attempted by the ever amiable Mr. Khan. His companion however merely answered with lady-like grunts that meant neither this nor that. Yet, he kept at it until the reached the aforesaid school where he cordially opened her door for her, being ever the gentleman. The moon seemed to cast a spotlight on Marie highlighting the silver strands of her hair and the lines around her eyes and mouth that were never too obvious in the morning sun. Huffing slightly, she walked into the building and up the stairs leaving the other smirking slightly at her displeasure.

They were headed for the office on the first floor where three men were earlier that day. Right now, it was occupied by two of the three men and three other persons. As you already know, the two men were the clearly annoyed new managers of the Conservatoire but let me introduce the three other occupants. First there was the music instructor, Grace Hahn who taught on the second floor. Beside her was the Spanish dance instructor, Gregory "Greg" Pena who flirted endlessly with his students seeing as he only took female students. Finally the last person was Kimberley Bennet, Nadir's assistant. However, these three people play a minor role in this story, but of course, their contributions cannot be ignored.

As Marie walked into the room she immediately snapped at her new "bosses" her pent up resentment unleashed in four words: "What do you want?" The two men turned a light shade of red seeing as this was the second time they were addressed in such a manner. Inhaling noisily, Richard opened his mouth to speak before the lights went out. All that was heard was a loud sputtering and a few muffled voices curious as to the sudden loss of electricity. If it was not for the moonlight that was peeking through the window, no one would have seen a tall figure dressed in a dark coat walk in silently after Nadir.

"Forgive me for my late arrival. I was ill informed," the man whispered, his voice traveling across the room in the sudden silence. It was Andre who regained his senses first. Squinting in the darkness, he said, "Perhaps we should postpone this meeting to another time seeing as we can barely see anyone." There was a sniff of disproval from the left side of the room when a woman, Grace Hahn if I'm not wrong, replied in a level tone, "I am assuming this meeting was for us talk and not goggle at each other, sir." Nadir was glad for the lack of light at that moment for he could not help but grin openly at her wit. Richard had finally reacquired his composure and blinked rapidly, his eyes adjusting to the dark room.

"Well, then. As you all know, I (here an audible cough from Andre was heard), sorry, _we_ are the new managers of this school." He paused here for effect, almost expecting with fading hope for applause. When he received none he pushed forward, "Right. So now, we would like all of you as the heads of each department, to know that there will be some changes in this institution. Mr. Lefevre, as we understand has always taken a hands-off policy in running this place. Today, I am glad… _we_ are glad to announce that we shall be active in the process of the school's productions, so as to be able to understand and to be a part what is going on in _our_ knowledge box. You are now looking at the new stage directors of the 'Conservatoire'."

At first no one spoke and the two businessmen took it as a sign of acceptance to their decision. Sadly, they had no such luck. In fact while all of them were supposedly "silent", they were looking at the dark cloaked figure whose face (or what they could see of it) did not betray any emotion. In fact he merely smiled and spoke again, this time in a clear voice that rang with a challenge, "If both of you choose to take Nadir's place, I'm sure he will gladly oblige. I applaud your daring to take on such a task and wish both of you the best of luck. Now that that is settled, I'm sure there is no other reason for you to detain us this evening?"

And with that, he exited the room and assumedly the building leaving two stunned managers in his wake.

xxxx

"That was a clever move you pulled earlier."

The other turned to look at his companion, a smirk playing on his lips. "It was wasn't it?" Nadir shook his head as he looked at the retreating figures of the two businessmen below. The wind blew gently across their faces as the clouds floated silently above. Marie stood leaning slightly on the wall as she huffed at the short exchange. The meeting had ended just a few minutes ago as the managers decided to "cut it short" (as Andre said).

The stage director and his_ passenger_ for the night immediately headed for the roof where the bright moonlight was much welcomed from the darkness of the office they were just in. "And what do you have planned?" asked Mrs. Giry as the vocal director turned slightly towards her. Erik Destler's gaze never wavered as he met Marie's blue eyes with his own green ones. "What do you think I have planned?" It was Marie who broke their contact as she looked up sighing slightly before looking at him again.

"I don't know. You're letting them interfere when the show is going on in two days time. I've always had my suspicions on your mental health and now you have confirmed it."

"My dear lady, do not worry. I have everything under control," he said softly, a dangerous smile on his lips once more. "So, you are going to let them take over the production?" asked Nadir, raising his eyebrows.

"Of course, I will."

"Are you completely out of your mind?"

"I am a man of my word."

Marie scoffed. "Are you sure you don't want me to call the Mental Institute. I hear they have a great program for the musically gifted." Their masked friend's smile grew even wider. "Do you not trust me?" he asked, his voice mocking. The two exchanged a glance before simultaneously saying, "Of course we do."

"Then, I shall not fail you. I'm going to let these businessmen have a taste of the arts before making them wish they had not left their office. Andre Giles and Richard Firmin will soon realize that without our help, they cannot survive. And once that is settled, there won't be any meddling of inexperienced buffoons in our productions ever again." Marie pursed her lips before walking over to the stairs. Halting at the steps she looked at Erik her gaze steely, "If you're sure, I'll go with your 'idea'. You've never failed us before, so I hope you don't start now. I'll wait for you downstairs, Mr. Khan," she said addressing the last line to the smiling Persian.

As the sound of Marie's shoes died away, Nadir looked at his friend, his face serious. "Everything has been done as you've asked. Hopefully, it'll all go as planned." Nodding slightly the taller man looked out before him, his gaze falling on the roof tops of the other buildings, enjoying the mysterious aura they exuded. Nadir stood a while longer before patting Erik on the shoulder and making his exit. The lone figure closed his eyes and inhaled the clean evening air. "I believe it shall."

xxxx

"How was it, Mom? What happened?" asked Christine as Marie hung her coat on the stand. Marguerite's face was turned slightly to her mother's direction though her eyes remained glued on the television screen. She watched her daughters a second longer, as she contemplated the right words to say. "There are going to be some changes for Tuesday's production."

**A/N:** I apologise profusely for such a long wait. It's been a month and sixteen days and I really do apologise. This chapter is slightly longer than the last and I'll hopefully be bringing the story to a different stage soon enough. Thank you for waiting and I hope you enjoyed it. Before I forger, have a blessed Christmas and a brilliant New Year 2008!

_The Sceptic_

P/s: don't forget to review 


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